


Latticed Love

by bluefallenfandomwallflowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Family, Love Confessions, M/M, Mary offers her blessing, Mary teaches Cas how to bake while also listening to him spill out everything, Pie, Post-Season/Series 11, Season/Series 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefallenfandomwallflowers/pseuds/bluefallenfandomwallflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary and Castiel have a heart-to-heart while they bake an apple pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latticed Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I literally wrote this little piece of gooey-ness in one night without stopping, so _please_ enjoy or i might cry  
>  <3  
> Enjoy!

"Castiel, honey, have you ever made a pie before?"

Mary Winchester, with her buttery curls and her sweet smile and caring grey eyes peers at him the way her son does.

With more of a motherly touch than Dean's aching gaze that never fails to send him under, of course, but nonetheless, loving.

Something he had never experienced before them.

They're in the bunker kitchen, ingredients scattered about the counter and utensils stuck in metal containers and the oven warming behind him.

And Mary, she's wearing a blue apron with red trim, lace dangling from the cuffs. She's in a white blouse and faded jeans and she is genuinely beautiful, something Castiel can't help adoring, knowing that she isn't superficial like the women in magazines he sees everywhere.

"I have never baked before," he confesses quietly.

Castiel can't help feeling like he should be impressing her, showing her that he is strong enough, brave enough to be here.

That even though he has failed before, he will never leave Dean's side again, no matter what the cost may be.

He worries she will dislike him.

But Mary, she simply laughs heartily and squeezes his forearm before grabbing a measuring cup and handing it to him. "Well, today you're learning how to bake, and I am _not_ taking no for an answer!" she says.

Cas tugs at Dean's old t-shirt, the one with the hole in the sleeve and the frayed collar, and tries not to swallow too loudly.

With another gentle tap on his arm, Mary begins pulling over the flour and eggs and milk, fingers nimble and long. "First, we need to make the crust," she explains, going right into it. "Then we will make the filling." 

Castiel nods and grips the measuring cup tightly. 

"You know, the first time I attempted to bake, I almost burnt the house down," Mary says, smirking at the memory lightly while she mixes ingredients together in a giant green bowl.

"Really?" Cas raises his eyebrows.

"Yes!" She laughs and starts kneading the dough, forearms straining and a gentle curl falling in her face. She immediately tucks it back behind her ear, a smear of the dough left on her earlobe. "My mother was furious. But, once the firemen came and put out the tiny fire in our little kitchen sink, she put me right back in front of that oven, stuck a bowl in my hand and told me to try again."

Castiel blinks, astonished. "And did it work out in the end?"

Turning towards him, Mary nods firmly, a sort of proud look on her face. "I made a damn fine cake that stifling afternoon..."

Grinning, Castiel hands over the rolling pin at Mary's insistence. She pulls the large ball of dough apart, wrapping one piece in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge. "You're mother seems like she was a passionate person," Castiel observes carefully.

"She was! Sweet as candy, but cold as ice when need be." Mary rolls the other half of the dough a few times on the cutting board before stepping away. "Go ahead, Castiel. Roll it out into a circle. And remember to use flour on the pin so the dough doesn't stick."

He plucks flour out with his fingertips and sprinkles it on the dough, Mary peeping over his shoulder with a smile as he begins rolling it.

"So, Castiel… How long have you known Sam and Dean?" Mary asks softly, leaning against the counter and looking up at him kindly.

Cas glances at her for a quick second before going back to rolling, pressing the dough into a thin circle, letting out the pain into every push of the wooden pin. “Almost eight years now,” he says softly, amazed at how long it really has been, even though the years feel more like centuries now. “I met Dean first and the meeting was...” He laughs and shakes his head. “It was different.”

“Tell me about it,” Mary says.

So he does.

Castiel ends up telling her everything, even the dark depths of their story, and it turns out that Sam isn’t always a part of his account, despite how much Castiel cares about him and how he would do anything for the man.

It’s the eldest Winchester that seems to come up most often as Castiel flattens out the dough, when Mary takes the almost perfectly rolled circle from under the wood and sticks it in a round pan, pushing it down into the corners and cutting off anything that hangs off. Castiel finds it in himself to eventually slow down the story, to stop jabbering in Mary’s ear about things that don’t matter, such as watching Dean rake leaves during his time with Lisa, how Castiel watched him wonder and hope and doubt when he was consorting with Crowley, when he appeared again as a man with no memory, and again as… Insane.

And while Mary starts on the filling, nudging him on with a smile and deep grey eyes that are sincere, Castiel goes on to indulge in how they were stuck in Purgatory together, how Dean came searching for him anyway despite Castiel being a beacon for evil and destruction, how Dean was the one to break him out of Naomi’s mind control. How he shattered Castiel’s newly adolescent human heart because Sam wasn’t _Sam_ and Castiel would be a weak link in his revival.

How he was nothing, at that point, except a fallen angel with a blade and stubble and love for a man who would never reciprocate his feelings.

And then, _god_ , the realization that Dean had taken on a curse unlike any other. Castiel, watching as he became…

Seeing him rot, hurt, console in the bloodlust and stare at the end of his gun, the sharp edge of his blade, for much too long.

And then, just when Dean got rid of that horrible, wretched scar, the biggest bad they’ve ever dealt with comes and she is suddenly so enamored with him, and maybe Castiel suspected that Dean felt the same way and it _hurt_ …

Worse than anything in the whole world.

Mary pulls the dough ball out of the refrigerator and slices it into long, thin strips while Castiel pours out secrets he’s never told anyone, including how he can’t look at Dean without feeling like he has failed him, how he feels guilty for loving Dean because he doesn’t deserve to feel the rush of blood pumping through his veins and the glorious enlightenment that makes his heart beat faster whenever the man happens to look his way.

And…

Mary just listens in silence, face serene but curious, eyes pouring over him with hidden certainty while she drinks it all in.

In all honesty, Castiel shouldn’t be telling her this. All these things about his failed past, his love for her son, how stupid he feels every time he tries for the right and inevitably fails.

Even the tale of how Satan himself got the best of Castiel barely fazes her, only a tiny raise of the eyebrows and a sigh, as if it isn’t surprising, but still disheartening, as it should be.

He almost can’t believe this woman truly exists.

And by the time Mary is placing the strips of dough in a lattice pattern over the succulent apples wafting a sweet cinnamon-sugar scent, Castiel is finishing up the deep, dark tale of how letting Dean go and sacrifice himself to destroy the Darkness hurt more than any torture could.

How just over a week ago, Cas was in the library, at the bookshelves near the back, picking out some random book to pass the time with before going to check on Sam. And suddenly, he was hearing familiar footsteps. 

Castiel dropped his book with a broken gasp and at seeing Dean, beautiful freckles still intact, smile across his face at the sight of Castiel in his new worn jeans and soft plaid that Sam finally convinced him into wearing a few weeks ago…

_That_ was the day Castiel’s hope returned.

And for the first time during Castiel’s outpour, Mary smiles wide, grey eyes watering. 

She looks happy, relieved almost, as if she had been expecting a different ending.

Castiel blushes at the end of his story, remembering how Dean had wrapped him up in his strong arms and spun them around, holding him close, whispering _Hey Cas_ into his ear, lips smooth as they sketched down the side of his jaw.

And Castiel simply hadn’t hesitated, too full of joy to even think of repercussions, rejection.

Castiel kissed Dean Winchester right on the mouth, hands shaking as they skimmed over his lovely freckled cheeks, up into the downy, short hairs on his perfect head, down into the suprisingly thick beard on his face, which made his lips even more gripping, passionate. It was everything, that moment Dean pushed back, kissing with everything he had and hands sliding up Castiel’s back, under his t-shirt and plaid, practically picking him up and holding him so, so tight.

Castiel never wanted to let go.

The man he loved was back, and he wasn’t going to hold anything back, not anymore.

Most certainly not.

“Castiel… May I ask you a question?” Mary asks when Castiel draws off quietly, wiping away flour from his wrist, coming back to reality.

“Of course.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He turns to her in confusion, clenching his thumb nervously. “What?”

“What is your favorite color?” She asks slowly, eyes searching, unafraid, no judgement behind them.

He swallows. “Green.”

Mary tilts her head and her lips slide up in the corners. “Just as I expected.”

He waits, but she simply sniffs and claps her hands a few times, little bits of dough falling off from between her skinny fingers, as well as flour and cinnamon. Mary smells sweet, like the pie they’re making, like flowers and a hint of that Winchester scent he has come to love more than anything, even the waterfalls he used to visit when he felt lonely, back when he could fly.

Mary picks up the pie and holds it up to Castiel’s nose. “We better get this in the oven!” She says, winking at him.

Castiel is at a complete loss, wondering if he possibly said something wrong.

But then, Mary slides the pie onto the rack and shuts the oven door and turns to him, hands on her slim hips. It’s silence for a moment, grey peering into blue.

“My daddy never got to give John his blessing,” she says, voice steady, clear. “And before… Everything that occurred, I promised myself that no matter who my boys wanted to marry, as long as they truly loved them and whoever they married was honest and wise, I would support them. No matter what.”

Worrying his lip, Castiel grips the edge of the counter and watches Mary closely, wondering what she means, if this is the dreadful rejection.

“It’s clear you love Dean more than anything, Castiel,” Mary finally says.

Castiel feels that lump in his throat dissolve and he swallows, nodding frantically.

“And… He loves you too.” She abruptly laughs and crosses her arms, leaning back next to the oven. “He couldn’t stop talking about you on our way here last week. From the moment he said your name, his eyes lit up and something changed. In the way he walked and talked and looked around…” She smiles up at him. “You are the one, Castiel. Truly. And… This will sound incredibly cheesy, but I give you my blessing.”

Castiel’s mouth suddenly feels impossibly dry, like he might die from lack of moisture and clean, hot oxygen and thoughts he’s kept inside for too long but might have been better left unsaid. “You… Really?” He asks softly, heart bumping.

Castiel is pulled into Mary’s warm embrace, her arms cradling his shoulders as she rubs his back and huffs bright laughter past his neck. “Really. I trust you, Sam trusts you… Dean, of course, trusts you... And from what you’ve told me, you aren’t a liar.”

When Mary pulls away, she grips his shoulders and looks him in the eye. “You are a good man, Castiel. We all make mistakes. And sometimes, you have to be able to look past that or you’ll never enjoy what you have now.”

Her words are a comfort, a slow churn of butter and slick liquor in through one ear and sticking in his brain like a clot. Castiel thanks her softly and smiles, feeling the warmth inside of him grow.

“Is it just me or do I smell pie?”

Castiel’s heart jumps another mile, and he turns to see Dean stepping into the kitchen doorway, grocery bags lined all the way up his arms and a grin on his face. “You are correct,” Castiel says, smiling. “We just put it in the oven.”

“Awesome!” Dean does a strange dance on his way down the steps.

Stepping into his path, Mary kisses him on the cheek and smiles at him, the way only a mother could. “I do hope you got those oranges I asked you for,” she says, helping him with the bags.

“Hey, I’m no slacker,” Dean jokes, sliding bags off his arms and onto the counter. “I also got you blueberries, just in case.”

“Good boy.” Mary touches his cheek fondly before tugging off her apron. “Is Sammy getting the rest of the groceries?”

“Yeah. Probably having trouble, since he’s so skinny and weak.” Dean grins and winks, the love for his mother clear in everything he does.

Rolling her eyes, Mary looks back at Castiel and raises an eyebrow before slipping past her son and heading out of the kitchen.

Dean rounds the counter, licking his lips and smiling at Castiel, who’s already in a deep pit of sexual tension that runs down his right arm, to his hip, into his belly... “You know, I think you got a little something…” Dean gestures towards his own lips, eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh.” Castiel goes a bit red, touching his mouth with his fingertips.

“No, just, lemme get it.” Dean raises his eyebrows, an inkling of that famous smirk evident on his face.

“ _Oh_ ,” Castiel breathes out before Dean is pressing him back against the island, hips slotting against Castiel’s, and kissing him soundly.

A thrill still travels its way up Castiel’s spine every time Dean touches him, licks into his mouth, pulls just slightly away to take a ragged breath before going back in for the kill. And it _does_ kill him, every single time. Like the weight of Dean against him is a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment and Castiel doesn’t even care, because it is so utterly perfect.

“Did you get it?” Castiel asks between the drag of their lips, smiling against Dean’s mouth and tugging at his hair.

Dean locks him in between his body and the counter with his arms, tilting his head and laughing softly. “Not sure. Better, uh, keep going just in case.”

“O-okay.” Dean pushes him up on the counter, flour and all, and everything becomes dire, vicious almost, because all they’ve done since Dean got back is steal kisses during supply runs and 1,000 piece puzzles in the war room while cleaning out the guns and Sam telling Mary about what they’ve been doing these past years, even when it hurts to say.

But despite all that, Castiel wants Dean. Just for a few hours, alone.

“Are you- you sure you want your mother and Sam to walk in on t-this?” Castiel stutters, as Dean runs his palm up his thigh, hooking his teeth gently into Castiel’s neck.

Sadly, Dean pulls away, breathing hard. “Dammit. You’re right.”

“Later?” Castiel asks, splaying his fingers over Dean’s cheeks, eyeing the adorable beige freckles dotting his nose.

Dean closes his eyes and sighs, tapping his fingers against Castiel’s lower back. “Okay,” he says, teeth gritted. He squeezes Castiel’s knee and gazes up at him with emerald eyes, almost begging.

With a small smile, Castiel nips at Dean’s bottom lip for a moment more before sliding off of the counter. “Love you,” Dean whispers suddenly, so quiet it’s barely there, but Castiel can see it in the worried wrinkle in the center of his forehead, the slight tremor of his hand.

“I love you too, Dean,” he whispers back, nuzzling his head next to Dean’s heart.

 

In the doorway of the kitchen, Mary creeps up and peeks in, watching as Castiel rests his head on Dean’s chest, locking his arms around her son’s middle.

They really are adorable.

And after hearing Castiel’s side of the story, she most definitely approves of everything they have, even if it was a bit delayed.

_Oh John, if only you could see how happy your son is…_

Mary rubs away a stray tear and moves on down the hallway, a smile on her face and the smell of apple pie thick in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly love the idea of Mary being a motherly figure to Cas, teaching him simple things, seeing how much Cas and Dean love each other and shipping it...  
> And wishing John was here to see it all.
> 
> <3
> 
> God, i'm such a dork.
> 
> UPDATE SINCE SDCC: BAHAHAHAHAAA....
> 
> I am seriously laughing so hard as i type this because my interpretation of Mary is so fudged up in this story XD Believe me, i still love it and honestly it makes me giggle everytime I think about Mary and Cas being buddies...  
> But GOD, ever since I watched that YouTube video of the Season 12 preview, I am sooooo freakin excited and also thoroughly amused because GUYS, Mary is going to be such a badass and she won't have any  
>  freaking time to BAKE A CHUCKDAMN PIE HAHA
> 
> But still, the excitement is real.  
> ANd maybe they can just bond over death and the love they have for Dean Winchester...  
> Anyway, glad you loved it!


End file.
